And I Feel Fine
by tridecagirl
Summary: We know what happened before the Rusty Crash, and what happened after. But what was it like to live through the Crash itself?  Super long  one shot.


Myra makes her way downstairs, careful in the darkness, clutching her bathrobe around herself tightly. Her bare feet sink into the carpet. She's not dressed for running. But the fire sirens aren't going off, so that's probably not it. She just needs to know why her father is up at midnight, the television sending flickering blue light up the stairs and murmurs of indistinct voices through the floor.

"Is it bad?" she asks quietly.

Her father turns. Behind him, she sees the list of infected cities they put up every once in a while. It's almost doubled. The bug is spreading faster.

"It's bad," he says.

At first, the oil bug seemed to be a blessing. A bacterium that fed off oil. A good way to clean up oil spills and the other industrial messes humanity left behind on their quest for liquid gold. At least, that's what they'd thought.

No one was sure what had changed. Maybe the bug had mutated on its own. Maybe someone had modified it themselves. But suddenly it had become unstable. Reports came in of oil supplies combusting, exploding into flame without any understandable cause. By the time people had figured out the reason, it was too late. The bug had spread across the globe.

And there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

She spends her days staring out the window. The TV scares her too much, with its dire reports and images of cities burning around the globe. Secure in LA, many people think they are invincible. Dad insisted they get rid of their car, but a lot of their neighbors haven't. Myra can watch the street, filled with cars streaming past, and enjoy the illusion that everything was normal.

Until the sirens start.

She can't believe what's happening at first, imagining that it's just a drill. But they don't stop, and no friendly voice comes on over the loudspeaker, assuring them that everything's all right. Instead the blaring noise continues, along with something else coming from far away. She strains her ears and realizes what it is – screams. A column of smoke is rising along the skyline, lit with a sinister red glow.

"Myra!" her father screams. "We need to go!"

She'd been prepared for so long, knows all her motions by heart, but now that it's real she hesitates. Her eyes flicker to her phone – do her friends know what's going on? Maybe she should call…

"Myra! The city's burning!"

The fear fills her father's voice. She's never heard it there before. Always, even as the bug spread its infection through the globe, he was calm and secure. Her safe place. But now he's terrified. She sweeps her eyes through her room one more time – she knows she's never coming back – grabs a duffel bag, and runs downstairs.

Her father, mother, and little brother Abe are waiting. Abe's face is pale, his eyes huge in his small face. She wants to tell him it'll be all right, but she doesn't want to lie. Her voice, like her father's, would give it away anyway. Instead she follows her family out the door and into the street.

Here, in their neighborhood, things seem normal. But Myra can smell smoke in the air, a thick, poisonous scent carrying the bug towards them. Red light flickers around the corner, too. She thinks it's the light of police cars at first, but then realizes that the police would never _drive _during an outbreak. It's not lights – it's fire.

They run down the empty street, Myra noticing how silent it is, how dead, and then turn the corner and enter hell.

The strangest things come into Myra's mind, like her life is flashing before her eyes even though she's not dying. Images, thoughts, and that old song she heard once playing on the radio…

_It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine…_

Whoever wrote that song didn't know what the hell they were talking about, she thinks grimly. She doesn't know what she feels, a mix of horror and shock, maybe even a little numbness as she tries to take in her surroundings.

Cars pack the road, and they're on fire, the choking scent of burning chemicals working its way down her throat and burning her eyes. And there are people inside, screaming, trapped by doors that have melted into their frames. Myra finds out that she can't run with her eyes closed, but she tries anyway.

One car's still moving, even though flames lick at the windows and the bubbling tires. Myra screams and jumps back as it crashes into the wall of the building in front of her. "Mom?" she screams. "Dad? Abe? Are you okay?"

There's no answer, not that she could hear one in this madness. Part of her wants to stay here, to look for them, save them. Another part wants to just curl up in a ball and cry. But a final part, a strong part she didn't know she had, made her straighten up and start running again. The song taunts her as she dodges the car and stumbles over the cratered sidewalk.

_Save yourself, serve yourself, World serves its own needs, regardless of your own needs_

I can't help them, she tells herself fiercely. But the tune mocks her.

_World serves its own needs, listen to your heart bleed_

Maybe her heart _is _bleeding. Maybe that's the pain that's tearing her up inside. She feels like all the pain the city can't express – the dying screams of the people burning inside their cars, the groans of crumbling buildings, the shattering of civilization – is seeping into her, weighing her down with every step. Tears course down her cheeks, poisoned by the rancid smoke, stinging her skin.

She skids into an alley, trying to outrace the hungry fire and suffocating smoke. Then she sees the opening at the other end – it's blocked by a flaming car, crashed against the building. She's trapped.

_Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn_

Taking a glance behind her at the chasing flames, she makes a decision. Just for a moment, she closes her eyes, tries to find a silence in the mess of sirens and screams, a bit of peace. Then she starts to run.

She jumps onto the hood of the car, her hands slamming against the crumpled hood of the hot metal scalds her – she thinks her shoes are melting, and she smells hair burning. Coughing on the thick smoke, she pushes off with the last bit of strength in her exhausted legs, and lands on the empty pavement on the other side. She stumbles a few steps, and then collapses onto the street, darkness eating at the edge of her vision.

She doesn't get long to enjoy unconsciousness, though. She wakes up coughing, and realizes that if she doesn't get out of the city, she'll die. Slowly she stands up and begins to move.

Later, she can't remember much of anything. The streets all blur together, and she only realizes she's out when, an hour later, she feels grass tickling her skin when she collapses. Rolling over, she sees her city burning. A few others like her straggle out of the broken streets bleeding fire. They're all that's left.

She tries to imagine a civilization without oil and can't. But there may not be one, if all the cities are burning and there're only a few humans left. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing after all, if this is what they've managed to do to themselves.

A breeze brushes her face, inexplicably fresh and clean in this valley that's usually tainted by pollution. She breathes it in for some solace as she watches her city crumble to ashes.

It's the end of the world as she knows it.

And she feels anything but fine.


End file.
